


The Hunter and the Angler

by USS_Hannigram (uss_hilson)



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal Lecter Series - All Media Types
Genre: Cannibalism, Cannibalism Puns, M/M, Male Slash, Murder Husbands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:13:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26567128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uss_hilson/pseuds/USS_Hannigram
Summary: Will goes to Hannibal with an offering of long pig.  You’ll never look at parsnips the same way again!(A bit silly, a dash of slashy, and oh-so-nice if you like romance-y!)Inspired by S2, E23, “Nak-choko”
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 2
Kudos: 41





	1. Hatching a Plan

After he had been cleared of all charges, Jack came to break Will out of the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane (or “BSHCI” as it was known) and take him back home to Wolf Trap, Virginia. During their car ride, Will presented Jack Crawford with a plan. “I had a lot of time to think in there, and I realized something – Hannibal, like Garrett Jacob Hobbs, is a hunter. He hunts after prey to eat, actively moves to catch and kill them. But not me, Jack, not me. I’m an angler.”

Not five minutes into the ride and Graham was already spouting crazy talk. Crawford was beginning to regret coming to pick Will up personally. Maybe his special agent still had a few lingering issues. “Okay. You’re an angler, so?”

Will smirked at his boss. “So, Jack, I’m a fisherman. That means that I use bait and a hook to catch my prey. The prey would never get caught if it weren’t so attracted to the bait. Fish bite because they’re hungry and the bait looks real. I’m a _good_ fisherman, Jack. The secret to fishing is in the bait, and I know the perfect bait to use to catch Hannibal.”

Jack took his eyes off the road to glance over at Will skeptically. “And what would that be?”

“Me!” Will exclaimed. “Lecter has made it clear several times over how unique and interesting he finds me. Why not use me?”

“And how would that work? Offer to let him eat you?”

“Almost. I’ll let him help me eat. I can pretend to kill someone and present it as a gift. Maybe he can teach me how to cook with long pig.”

Jack shuddered. “That’s a new low to imagine, even for you!”

“Is it, Jack? I mean, you’re finally convinced that he’s the Chesapeake Ripper, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re already convinced that he’s eating them.”

“Will, the food at his party – _his party honoring me after I saved him from the orderly you sent to kill him_ – was tested, and it came back with no human traces. But, Chilton believes without a doubt that he _does_ serve human meat, and quite frankly, I know I don’t possess the world’s most sophisticated palate, but I **always** have what he’s serving me. And he always says that it’s ostrich or rabbit or something else exotic. Something most regular schlubs like me – a meat and potatoes man, wouldn’t know to recognize by taste. So, Lecter says it’s rabbit, why would I guess it to be anything different? I’ve never even had rabbit, Will.

“And even if he’s not eating people but merely killing them, I’m still convinced that he brutalized Beverly, and the only thing she’d done wrong was give you the benefit of the doubt when the rest of us were convinced that you were a killer. And I _am_ convinced he’s the one who killed Miriam Lass. The fact that Chilton was available as a convenient scapegoat to knock off suspicion from Hannibal was just… well, you’ve almost got to feel sorry for Chilton.”

“ _Almost,_ ” Will replied. “Don’t forget, he’s the genius who thought I was his eventual golden goose if only he could get me to spill the beans and confess.” Will laughed despite sounding bitter. “To piss him off, I’d zone out when he was trying to question me and then say that I’d only talk to Lecter.” Now, Jack laughed with him.

“Actually I was thinking that I can go back to Lecter, tell him that I want to resume therapy. I’ll tell him that I really want to give it a real go this time, and that I want to resume our friendship.”

Jack had been in the process of braking for a stoplight upon hearing Will mention his friendship with Lecter, and he tapped the brake a bit too hard in reaction. “That man does not have friends. If he considers you a friend with what he did to you… hell, he acted as a sympathetic ear when I told him about Miriam, and then you… Technically, he even worked with Beverly during your incarceration.”

“Yeah, she tried to get information out of him based on my request, but he toyed with her like she was a mouse. It got her killed. Trying to help save me got Beverly killed.” Crawford could hear the pain in Graham’s voice.

~~~~~~

Over the next week, Will Graham and Jack Crawford, two of the most revered minds of the FBI’s Behavioral Analysis Unit, devised a plan. They would have to be exceedingly careful and not tell anyone, not even Alana. They both knew that it would throw Dr. Bloom into a deep psychological distress once she found out, but given her profound respect for Lecter, there was no way that they could trust her. The only problem with their plan was that they needed a third person.

“Could we just pretend to use one of the local homeless population or a missing adult?” Jack asked, trying to offer up a suitable option. 

“No,” Will replied. “It’s got to be someone whose death could be symbolic for him, for both of us. It’s got to be someone he knows. Someone whose absence he would notice and someone he would also approve of butchering.”

“Like a pig.”

“ **Jack, that’s it!** We both know that with as vain as Hannibal is, he loved the publicity given to the Chesapeake Ripper by TattleCrime. We can use Freddie Lounds – she’s perfect! She can go into hiding for a few weeks and then I’ll offer her an exclusive in exchange. I mean, come on, Jack, you know she’d want one anyhow.” It was the first time that Will had spoken Hannibal’s first name since Jack had picked him up to drive him home to Wolf Trap.

Miriam Lass and her classmates didn’t call Jack Crawford “the Guru” for nothing. He noticed Will’s use of the name, the familiar way it came off his tongue when he got excited. Their plan just may work after all.

~~~~~~

The meeting with Freddie Lounds went better than expected, but she still annoyed the hell out of both Will and Jack. That, along with trashy tabloid journalism, seemed to be her specialty. “You want me to roll over and play dead? Seriously? And you think _that_ will trap Lecter?”

“Why not?” Will asked irritably. 

“We know that Lecter’s an avid reader of your publication,” Jack took over the lead, hearing the annoyance in Will’s voice that was evident after speaking two words to Lounds. “We know that he reads your publication, and we know he’ll read it if you write an article about Will’s release. When you don’t follow up with another article or two, he’ll notice your absence. Hannibal’s observant.” Will flinched upon hearing Jack speak _his_ name.

“And if I let you do this to me, what do I get in return?” Will was right, Jack thought, he _was_ a great fisherman.

“An exclusive interview with me.” **And he was good bait!**

Freddie blinked, opening her eyes wide as she looked at the two men. “Alright then, if you promise to be a good sport when it’s question time.”

“I promise.” It was the nicest tone Will had ever taken with Freddie.

“Well then, gentlemen,” Freddie began as she opened her clutch to grab a notepad and pen, “what do you need from me?”

“Some of your hair,” Will responded immediately. Both Jack and Freddie looked at him in shock. “I’ll need to put an errant strand somewhere on my clothes where he’ll notice. You’re always leaving your hair at crime scenes when you’re snooping around, now your hair can _be_ an actual part of the crime scene.” Will’s joke fell flat – Freddie was still taken aback. She plucked a strand and held it out to Graham.

“Is that all?”

“And you should drive your car out to Will’s, maybe make sure to stop and get gas on the way, someplace near Wolf Trap. Go inside and pay with a check so the clerk gets a good look at you.”

“Jesus, Jack! You think I still use checks? Gross! Get with the times!” Jack laughed. Apparently, Freddie’s jokes were funnier than Will’s.

~~~~~~

Despite knowing that Jimmy Price could have told them exactly how to get a cut of meat that would resemble a human, Jack was adamant that no one else could be in on their plan. “As my granddad used to say, ‘loose lips sink ships’ – the best advice that the Navy ever gave him.” Jack’s granddad was a sailor in World War II, when America would remind its soldiers that pretty women could spread more than just the clap.

Will recognized the old propaganda phrase and shook his head. “And here I thought that Freddie Lounds would be the **last** person I’d ever get into bed with.”

“I don’t care if you have to get in bed with the Devil, we need to catch Lecter!”

“I know. But he’s smart, so it’s going to take time and a lot of patience and baiting of hooks.”

~~~~~~

Between them, their search histories would have gotten them both investigated had Jack and Will not already been part of the FBI. The two men were exceedingly careful and would only get together to discuss their plans on nights when everyone else had gone home by five-thirty. (Jack’s wife was sick, and he hated getting home to her late.)

“Look, goddamit, I’m just asking if there’s a way _around_ this, Will. I’m not asking for a fucking Michelin award-winning recipe.”

“You don’t think I don’t know that, Jack? What do you want me to do, waltz on into Fenwick’s and ask for a couple of pork chops, or perhaps a loin? You don’t think Hanni – _he’s_ going to notice the difference? The man regularly dines on humans! Just because you don’t know what rabbit or deer tastes like doesn’t mean that he doesn’t!”

Will was right, dammit. Jack tried to pull the conversation back slowly. “I’m just worried how all of this is going to look when Internal Investigations learns of it and asks me why I let you kill, display, and cook a serial killer to… catch a serial killer. Besides, I can’t imagine that his meat would even be good anymore.”

“Oh, I’ve already got that covered! Before I took Randall Tier’s body over to Lecter’s, I made sure to cut a slice from his back, a low part, just in case.”

Jack had looked at Will, puzzled. “In case of _what_?”

“Well, Hannibal had included pieces of all of his recent victims in my lures. He didn’t want to eat their teeth or hair. But, he figured that they might be useful, and then he had them readily available come time to frame me. I’m learning from the best.” Will’s wide smile unnerved Crawford.

“Where, um, where do you have it, Will?”

“Oh, in a chest freezer out back in my barn, the one that Freddie found.” Lounds had gone snooping at Will’s place shortly after he was taken into custody. Thankfully, Alana had found her when she’d stopped to check in on the dogs. They knew that someone unwelcomed was on their property, and they’d begun barking like mad.

“The one that was _locked_.”

“Yes, but I got a better lock after that. Besides, I didn’t want to put it in my house freezer and end up accidentally eating it. What if my power went out and someone from the electric company came by, opened the fridge, and a pack of Randall fell out? And I don’t want the dogs getting into it, either.”

Jack swallowed hard. _Who else would think about their dogs when discussing such a thing_? Of course, Jack didn’t realize that Will would often take the heart and lungs from the deer his neighbors caught to grind up with a variety of nuts, berries, and greens so that he could feed his dogs healthy, homemade raw food. Most of the stuff at the pet stores was garbage, and there were **always** recalls coming from the Chinese-produced stuff. Everyone who owned dogs knew that.

~~~~~~

It took a few days to allow Freddie Lounds to tie up loose ends and pack for a vacation of sorts. Her last task before checking into a hotel near the FBI’s Richmond Field Office was to visit Will Graham. She would have to leave her car at his property and entrust him to park it in a long-term commuter lot where its presence would not be noticed for some time. Jack would meet her at Will’s, and then drive her to the Richmond office where a security detail would be assigned to her. Security would stay in the room at the end of the hall on the second floor of the Extended Stay America, right next to her room. 

Jack had no sooner briefed both Graham and Lounds before he was read the riot act. “Really, Jack? A two-star hotel? You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

“My wife never complains, and besides, this isn’t just for a night or two, Freddie. The FBI isn’t made of money.”

“You could’ve at least splurged for the Marriot,” she scowled.

“You could always stay in my barn with Randall,” Will suggested wryly. Both Crawford and Lounds looked at him as if he were crazy.

“I’m not staying in a barn with pieces of the serial killer you chopped up. Besides, Lecter’s been here before, hasn’t he? He’d probably end up finding me and killing me himself.”

Will raised his eyebrows and looked at Jack. “She’s not wrong.”

“Thanks, but can we get a move on? This place creeps me out – no offense, Will.”

“We can’t leave yet,” Jack replied. “You made a good point – we should probably have you go into Will’s barn again to rifle through a few things. Maybe break a nail and leave it where it lays. Something that makes it look like you put up a fight just in case Hannibal does come by to check out the fake crime scene.”

“Fine, let’s go into Will’s barn, but if I have to go back in there, I’m going to scratch him up a bit. Nothing major, just something noticeable around his ear so that when he goes to have dinner with Lecter, it’ll be noticed.” She expected Will to protest, but instead he willingly went along with her idea.

Will took Freddie towards his barn and opened the door just slightly, forcing her to squeeze through in hopes that an errant fiber would be left behind. It was dark, but there was a faint light and hum emanating from the chest freezer. Freddie walked towards it, noticing the new padlock. Before she could turn back around, Will was behind her. She could see the whites of his eyes, and she was scared by what she saw. “That was a great idea back there, Freddie. Just try to avoid my face, okay?” Will whispered loudly. Freddie screamed despite being on the same side of this plot as Graham. The man was still unbalanced, and he still scared the hell out of her. They could hear Jack come towards the barn upon hearing Freddie’s exclamation. “Stand back, Jack,” Will called out loudly. “Lecter can’t know that you were here.” He grabbed Freddie from behind as if he were going to drag her off.

For someone who was just acting, Graham seemed to enjoy attacking her, Lounds noticed. Having taken several courses on self-defense which assisted her greatly as a reporter for TattleCrime, Freddie’s instincts were to grab her mace, spray Graham, and run like hell. It was hard to work against her own flight-or-fight nature, but Freddie reached behind her and grabbed at Will’s head. A small handful of hair came out, causing Will to grimace. “Dammit, Freddie!”

She smiled in the darkness. “Sorry. I missed.” She reached up again and this time her fingers connected right under Graham’s left ear. Her nails gouged into his skin and pulled downwards. This time, it was Will’s turn to scream. He released her, allowing Freddie to pull back and step quickly towards the barn door. “Okay Jack, time to leave!” 

Crawford heard a pang of panic in Freddie’s voice as she exited the barn, leaving Will behind, wincing and grabbing his neck. She hadn’t drawn blood, but she had been damned close. The scratches would be visible for days.

Jack was waiting for Will to rejoin them, with Freddie standing well behind him, regarding the barn as if she were a bruised animal who had been caught in a trap. “Do you really trust him, Jack?” she hissed quietly as Will started to approach them.

“Yes. After all he’s gone through, Will is our best chance to catch Lecter.”

Will came out of the barn, joined them, and stretched his neck to show Jack the results of Freddie’s handiwork. “I feel like I tried to put the moves on Freddie _Krueger!”_

“Damn, our girl here knows how to fight!” Jack exclaimed, admiring the red scratch marks on Will’s neck. There was no way that those could be mistaken as being the result of a romantic tryst – they had anger behind them.

“In my line of work, you have to know how to protect yourself,” Freddie replied.

“Yes, you are a petite long pig.” Again, both Freddie and Jack looked at Will. _Why did no one get his jokes_? He sighed. “Am I the only one here who knows actually knows what long pig is?” Jack knew, and explained that he first heard about it being cooked at a special dinner during his Army years. However, it was just something the staff sergeants said to the new recruits to fuck with them.

“Okay, I’ll bite, what’s long pig, Will?” Freddie asked.

Will smiled lopsidedly at her. “Human. It’s human meat. Soylent Green. Hannibal will know and will take the bait perfectly once a day or two has gone by with you having gone missing.”

Freddie’s stomach churned. _Of course it was_ , she thought. _In fact, if she didn’t know better, she’d almost think that Graham was excited at the prospect of dining again with Lecter_. “So, wait a minute, does this mean that you’ll be willingly eating human meat with Lecter?”

“Yep. If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em until you **can** beat ‘em!”

Again, Jack could sense Freddie’s discomfort whereas Will seemed oblivious. “I mean, technically, all of us who knew him well enough to receive a dinner invite have eaten… long pig.”

“Not me. I’m a vegetarian. The one time I did eat at Lecter’s, I stuck with salad.” Looking back, Freddie was never so glad that she’d become a vegetarian at the age of 12 from when she learned how sausage was made. It was her first investigative assignment – a report for her sixth grade English class that would change her life in more ways than one. Now, she was the number one tabloid reporter in all of the U.S. – at least on the East Coast. 

Will put a hand to his mouth as if to quell a wave of nausea. “Jack, the day you sent the two of us to those construction sites, the day that I picked up Garrett Jacob Hobbs’ file, he fed me a sausage. It was in what he called a ‘breakfast scramble’ with eggs, and he told me about how he was very careful about what he put in his body, and how he usually did all of his own cooking. He watched me eat that food, Jack. And when I told him that I didn’t find him interesting, he told me that I _would_. And that was on what, his second day of knowing me? He knew that I would eventually figure him out, yet he’s been feeding me his victims all this time anyway. **Fuck**!” Will crouched over, putting his hands on his knees as he tried to avoid bringing up his last meal. He was finally humanized – at least a bit – in Freddie’s eyes.

“It sorta sounds like your man’s got a thing for you!” Freddie regretted the words the moment they left her lips, but mostly, she regretted her bemused tone.

“ _A thing_ , Freddie? _What kind of thing_?”

The East Coast’s self-proclaimed number one tabloid reporter looked to Agent Crawford for some assistance but he raised his eyes at her as if to say, “you talked yourself into this nest of hornets, Freddie, have fun talking yourself out of it.”

“I… just meant that obviously Hannibal’s got a… keen interest in you. The first time he ever met me, he called me rude, but I’m ten times more congenial than you, yet he’s never chastised you for using the wrong fork at dinner, has he?”

“You probably _were_ rude, weren’t you?”

Freddie frowned. “I mean… not with my words, no. It was more of my actions, really.” Jack laughed, but Will looked ready to pounce on her, so Freddie turned slightly to face Jack. “Agent Crawford, the sooner we get out of here, the sooner TattleCrime can publish a front page missing person piece on me. And the sooner we get to that roach motel you’re setting me up in, and the sooner I can take off these heels.”

“You’re right. Let’s go, Miss Lounds. Will, I’ll be back soon enough, but make sure to wait at least a day before going to see Hannibal. Try not to leave before I come back; I need to get you a mike. And make sure that it’s just the two of you. I don’t want to jump through any legal hoops with other unwitting guests.”

“Got it.” Will avoided Freddie’s eyes.

“And remember, you don’t have to eat the meat yourself. Just get him to, got it?”

~~~~~~

Will walked back to his house with a bitter taste in his mouth. He’d left the pack inside because he didn’t want them getting upset at seeing him potentially attacked (also, he didn’t want to taint his dogs with the smell of Freddie Lounds). It was bad enough that his dogs knew Lecter as the well-dressed man who would feed them on occasion when Will was indisposed. Ugh – that left a bad taste in his mouth, too. What if Lecter decided to come and kill him one night – would the dogs merely greet him with wags of their tails?

_Hannibal_ … why didn’t Jack step in and take the heat off when Freddie was pestering him? Will walked into the house. 

“‘Keen interest’, Winston, what do you say about that?” The dog looked up at Will and wagged his tail. Surely, Jack knew what Freddie was implying. Typical tabloid trash. He was straight and Freddie only need to ask Alana Bloom about that. In fact, he never even thought of another man in that way. As for Hannibal… who knew? The man almost seemed asexual – he never showed any romantic interest in anyone that Will could discern. In fact, upon thinking about it, Will couldn’t really remember Hannibal talking about his personal life much at all, aside from mentioning that he had a sister whom had reminded him of Abigail… Hell, maybe Hannibal killed his own sister just liked he’d killed Abigail, their shared surrogate daughter. 

“She has no one left now. Tell me, Will, don’t you feel a sense of duty and obligation to her now? You did kill her father, after all.” It was such bullshit. Based on what he believed of Lecter, he probably did made the world a better place with some of the people he killed. But, killing Abigail was unforgiveable, and Will needed closure. A whole family wiped out from their combined violence. The only difference was that where it was driving Will mad (despite it being the right thing to do since Mr. Hobbs would have killed his own daughter like he killed his wife had Will not shot… 10 times), Hannibal appeared to be sleeping just fine.

~~~~~~

While Will was an excellent fisherman and fishing took patience, he couldn’t help but be anxious. On Tuesday, TattleCrime ran its front-page article about Freddie’s disappearance. A phone call from Freddie’s cell had been left on the tabloid’s tipline. According to the article, Freddie sounded terrified as her voice cut in and out. Police were called and it was believed that her cell phone last pinged 20 miles north of Wolf Trap, the home of “troubled former and current special agent of the FBI, Will Graham.” Of course, the dipshit who wrote the article used a picture of Will in his asylum garb, and included a shot of him during his trial, before the judge was murdered. (Thank God for small favors though, as that helped convince Jack and the rest of his FBI colleagues that Will wasn’t the Chesapeake Ripper.)

Will spent Wednesday going through scenarios in his head. He’d taken a cut of Randall’s meat to put in his refrigerator so that it would dethaw before he brought it to Lecter’s. Jack stopped by to give him a small recording device to wear.

“It’s just for recording. In fact, I won’t even be listening to it in real time, if you’d prefer,” Jack offered.

“Yeah… that might make it easier. Less pressure to perform in the moment. More natural conversation… well, as normal as any conversation with Lecter can be.”

Jack laughed. “Ain’t that the truth! But kudos to you for being willing to take all this on despite what he did to you… and what I didn’t do soon enough.”

“Which was?”

“Believe you. Believe in you like Beverly did. You may have killed people, Will, but you’re no killer; you’re too caring. And you know that about yourself, too. Just don’t let him make you forget that.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Will took what appeared to be a small collar button from Crawford. “And what am I supposed to do with this?”

“There’s a little button on back. Press it in with your finger, and simply wear it with a button down shirt. Only downside is that you’ll have to pop a button off the shirt you plan on wearing and use the metal tab in the back to clip it to your collar, sort of like a lapel pin. Back in the early 90s, I used to use one that had to be sewed on, but these are easier. Besides, my wife isn’t really up to sewing anymore.” Will detected a sad tone in Jack’s voice.

“How is Bella these days, Jack?” Will made the effort to look Crawford in the eyes.

“She’s… not well, but thank you for asking.”

“Why are you here then? Why bother with any of this?”

“Because, it’s important. Because Miriam Lass shouldn’t die in vain. Because Beverly was brave enough to look for the truth when you were behind bars and the rest of us were cowards.” Jack held back the last sentence that came to his mind, “ _because my wife doesn’t want me to see her dying_.”


	2. Backstory and a Bath

After Jack left, Will went upstairs to go through his closet. He needed a button-down shirt with small white buttons. He found an emerald green shirt that he’d forgotten about, and decided to wear it with a clean pair of dark tan khakis. He pulled them out and set them on the chair he kept in his bedroom. He looked around – he’d stopped sleeping up here after finding himself out on the roof of the first story. Buddy and Winston had been whining for him to return while the other dogs looked around, wondering why their man went outside. Only they went outside to fertilize nature, their human used a weird water bowl.

After picking out his clothes for his – _date, that’s what Freddie would call it_ – dinner with Lecter, Will stepped into the attached bathroom. Unlike his downstairs bathroom, it had a full bathtub, and a small rack above the sink but below the vanity mirror that contained several small bottles. One bottle contained a dram of sandalwood oil. Will grabbed a cotton ball and held it up against the bottle, tipping them both to grab a small drop before doing the same with some small bottles of vanilla and rosemary oil. He tried it out – he’d smelled like an exotic locale, but he wasn’t sure where he smelled of. He laughed to himself – in green and light brown with his special concoction of oils, all he’d need was a little set of antlers to win him the role of Puck or some other wood nymph. After all, Price and Zeller were always teasing him about being short and childlike in stature. 

“You’re like a little forest fairy, just waiting to come across a hunter,” Jimmy had told him a year ago. No one knew how right he’d be, Will as the hunter-angler and Hannibal as the prey, as Will used himself as bait to catch Hannibal on his line. Even the stealthiest of fish gave a nice tug when they couldn’t resist the temptation.

Will sniffed himself again. He was pretty ripe – the oil smelled nice though. Sorta earthy and natural. Since he was already upstairs, he might as well take a bath. Technically, he could even sleep up here, too. He’d put a few boards up on his bedroom windows to avoid another nighttime adventure. Plus, there somehow seemed to be more room for both him and the dogs up here. And, they stayed on the floor up here – sometimes the whole pack would try to jump onto the pullout, and inevitably, they would hop down in fear as Will began to experience his nightmares and night terrors.

Will took the opportunity to run a hot bath. His last girlfriend had left some Skin-So-Soft bath oil when she cleaned out the top dresser drawer of her clothes and said goodbye for the last time. Said girlfriend, Alyssa, had called, insisted that they needed to talk, came over, told him that he’d been distant, and she’d grown lonely and met someone new. Then, she started upstairs to hastily throw her shirts, a bra, and a few pairs of boy short panties into a reusable grocery bag. She’d been half out of the house when he called out to her. “What, you’re not even going to look at me, not even going to say goodbye?” 

“Fine. Goodbye, Will. Are you happy now? You need help, and I hope that you get it someday, but never call me again.” She had raised one hand as she stormed out of the door, out of his life forever, refusing to even look at him. It was two Saturdays later that he would find his first stray, Bugsby. He was a half Beagle, half Lab mix – 110% pure mutt. One Hundred and Ten Percent unwanted and rejected, just like Will. By the following Tuesday, Will released that it wasn’t fair to leave Bugsby home all alone most days. Conveniently, he and his new friend were on a hike when they found Jerry just a week and a half later. In fact, it was Bugsby who had been walking up ahead of Will on the trail and had alerted to finding Will’s second dog, a few meters away, his back left paw stuck under an old tree trunk.

Jerry had been out in the forest for days. He’d been rained on and gone without food. Will freed the dog before wrapping him in his windbreaker and carrying him back to the car. He lifted the back door to his Volvo station wagon and laid the stray dog in, Bugsby jumping up and laying next to his new brother to comfort him and provide a bit of warmth while their man drove them home.

Will let his head fall back against the tub. The hot water was fragrant and had a nice slick feel to it. Alyssa was gone but not forgotten – at least not until he went through all of this Avon bath stuff she’d left. And even then, he was sure he could look for it at the grocery store and get some more. And if he couldn’t find it there ( _he wouldn’t_ ), he could ask Alana. Why the hell were all of his love interests A-women? Alana, Alyssa, Ashley, Amber… and wasn’t there an Annie in second grade? He seemed to remember her – blonde hair, hazel eyes, tanned skin. Hell, she probably looked like the sister Hannibal said he lost, the one who reminded him of Abigail. Will smirked – yes, certainly everything in his life either brought him _to_ Hannibal or reminded him _of_ Hannibal. **Jesus.**

Jack had no clue how much he was asking of Will nor how much Will was offering. Will _really_ didn’t want to wear the damned bug. He was going through all this effort to appeal to Hannibal’s peculiar sensibilities, and he might have to say or do something even more peculiar just to bait his fish. After all, it was one thing to mention a plan to eat a serial killer that Will himself had killed – _rightfully, in self-defense! –_ but it was another to record him dining on it. Maybe Jack had still felt that Will was his fine china that was too delicate for daily use. Maybe Jack was going along with this to break Will and convince him to retire.

What had Hannibal called him that day he’d brought Will breakfast? “A mongoose under the house.” Mongoose were small but fierce. **Tenacious**. It was almost like Hannibal saw the potential both of **_and_ **for Will to kill another human being before either of them had ever heard of Garrett Jacob Hobbs. It was weird how Hannibal seemed to know Will better within 24 hours than Will knew himself. But, that was part of the reason Will kept going back to see Hannibal after he’d rubber-stamped Will’s psychological assessment. Will hated that Jack had _insisted_ on the assessment before he could return to work. 

“It’s just a precautionary thing, lets the FBI cover its ass if I’m making a mistake in trusting you again,” Jack had told him.

“I understand, Jack, but that doesn’t mean that you trust me.” In fact, the insinuation stung. People were always insinuating. It was disrespectful, rude. Alyssa had insinuated that he wasn’t listening to her when **all he did** was listen to her yammer on about nail colors and shoes when he just wanted a chance, just a moment to mention his depression. (Of course, he’d tried to bring it up with Amber, but even after three years together, she seemed more intent on dropping not-so-subtle engagement hints than she was about checking on him as a human, a person, the man she supposedly loved. He dodged a bullet there though. Within a year after she left, Amber had gotten married to some guy named Chad, ended up having two kids, and was divorced before either of her girls were out of diapers.) “Dodged a big bullet there,” Will said aloud to himself, laughing. “Woof!”

And most recently, it had been Alana, Queen of Mixed Signals. They’d been strictly platonic for some time until she got really concerned for him, which lead to her checking in on him, which lead to them flirting, which lead to them kissing. Will didn’t know it, but all of his exes, even the ones whose definition of going out merely meant holding hands so, so long ago, would blame Will’s “puppy dog eyes”. Normally, boys with such enchanting eyes had brown irises, but Will had blue eyes, like his father. Unlike his father though, Will had rings of brown surrounding his blue orbs. A tally of his exes would show that Will Graham’s eyes were simply irresistible. True, Will generally seemed to be too focused on work and lacking a bit in personality and relatability sometimes, but the man had beautiful eyes. 

Will didn’t own fancy smelling shampoo or luxury soaps, but he loved washing his hair. Getting a good froth, letting the sudsy water drip down around his ears, it just felt good. Made him feel more human. It was funny, really, since he usually only showered. The only ones who usually got baths at his house were the dogs. In fact, Will kept an old water tub out on the front porch for just such occasions. Every stray got a bath with special, all-natural dog shampoo, toweled off, a blow dry, and a flea treatment. The flea treatment covered ticks, too. You can’t have a forest for your backyard without treating for ticks, too.


	3. Preparations

Will spent over an hour in the bath, relaxing and ruminating, before rinsing off and throwing on some lounge pants. He let the pack out to use nature’s bathroom one last time before bed, and then he climbed the stairs to his rarely used bedroom.

Graham fell asleep rather easily – baths always relaxed him – but he spent his dreams thinking about his dinner tomorrow night with Lecter. When he’d called to ask if Lecter if he was free, he could hear the surprise in the other man’s voice. In fact, Lecter had a ticket to go to the opera but insisted that he would rather dine with Will as it was a gift from a client for a show that he’d only just seen the week prior. “Are you sure, because I could always put the _surprise_ back in the freezer for another time.”

That had piqued Lecter’s curiosity. “Is it meat?”

“You could say that.”

“What kind?”

“It’s a surprise.” Will smiled as he said it, knowing that he would take the bait.

“Well, it would be a shame for your surprise to go to waste, and I find that meat is never as enjoyable if it’s frozen more than once.” That was true. In fact, Will had ruined several good venison steaks by taking them down to dethaw only to have them sit in his fridge for several days. He’d come back from an assignment just long enough to grab a shower and some new clothes and to throw the mail on his coffee table before heading out again. During his brief visit back home, he’d end up throwing the butcher’s wrapped steak in a freezer bag to put back in the freezer, and carefully walking a plate with dark, pooled blood to his sink before rinsing it off. 

Oftentimes, when he was gone for more than a day or two, he’d have either Alana or the neighbor girl a few miles away check in on his pack. Once, he came back without telling Alana and found her on the ground, rubbing Winston’s belly, telling him that he was a good boy. “Sometimes, I wish we were roomies so that I could snuggle these sweethearts and have them all to myself while you’re gone.” **Again, the Queen of Mixed Signals, ladies and gentlemen.**

~~~~~~

Since he wasn’t expected in the office, Will managed to sleep in until 9 a.m. (Jack had actually told him to keep away for a few days to help lend credence to Freddie’s disappearance. Jack merely told the others that Will had taken a few days off due to a bad case of food poisoning. “It happens to the best of us,” he told Price and Zeller.) In fact, Will probably would have slept longer if Buster hadn’t climbed onto the bed and nuzzled into his back. 

Ever since surviving Randall Tier’s attack, Buster had become clingy and would find his way onto wherever Will was sleeping. To be honest, Will didn’t really mind. What was the point of caring for a pack if not to keep one another warm once in awhile? Besides, Alana shouldn’t be the only one to enjoy the companionship of his dogs.

Will tried to go about his day as if he would any normal day off from work. However, he didn’t want to get dirty, and frankly, he was nervous. Would Lecter see through his charade after all, or would he accept that Will was _finally_ leaning into becoming whatever he saw in him since he killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs? Will wondered how often Lecter killed, and how soon he killed before or after helping the FBI with any number of its cases, some of which were his.

To keep himself occupied, Will sat out on his porch, drinking tea, while watching the dogs play and explore. When the pack was ready to come in, he would follow them into the house before turning his focus to making lures. Somehow, despite Lecter planting evidence in them, making his fly-fishing bait still brought Will comfort. So few things nowadays seemed to bring him happiness anymore….

Around 1:30 p.m. in the afternoon, Will realized that his stomach was growling. He wasn’t due to in Baltimore until 6:30, and there was no way that he could wait that long to eat. Ever the bachelor, he found a jar of peanut butter in his pantry, and a not-yet-disgusting loaf of bread in his refrigerator. Will had peach preserves in the fridge, too, but peanut butter was enough. Despite being hungry, he was afraid that he might bring even his sparce sandwich up with nerves. There was a very good chance that he would end up putting his fingers down his throat to induce vomiting later tonight, so it was in his own best interest to at least eat some protein that he could stomach now, while he still could.

Around 4:30, Will decided to feed the dogs and get ready for his – _date_ – **dammit, Freddie, shut up!** – dinner with… _Hannibal_. (He might as well get used to saying that name.) While some might think that it was silly to start preparing so early, it took a good hour, sometimes 75 minutes to get to Hannibal’s, depending on traffic, and Will would be leaving in the middle of rush hour. He went back upstairs and stripped off his pajama bottoms. A careful trim of his facial hair, a good brush and teeth flossing, and then some of those oils he’d gotten as a gift from Alyssa. There were a few musky scents that would have been useful if he were a hunter, but Will only fished.

Will dressed after ensuring that he smelled nice enough for a weird dinner with Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the cannibalistic serial killer who had tried to frame him for murder before sending a deranged former patient after him. (Lecter was also the best friend that Will had ever had, sadly enough). Will checked himself in the mirror - simple, smart. The bait had been placed on the hook. Will trotted downstairs and packed a cooler with ice before setting in a little of what remained of the man sent to kill him in his own home, the man who mostly just succeeded in scaring Buster. Well, Will thought, that wasn’t _entirely_ true. Tier’s murderous instincts, nurtured by Lecter, also managed to get him killed.


	4. Dinnertime

Will thought that traffic would be heavy, but he was happily mistaken in part because he was driving into, and not out of, Baltimore. Two exits away, he popped a breath mint. Peppermint not only aided in fresh breath, but it soothed an upset stomach. Will kept taking deep breaths in through his nose and out through his mouth to help calm his nerves. Soon enough, he arrived at his destination and he removed Randall Tier from the cooler. As he approached Hannibal’s door, Will hit the button that would start recording his conversation with Hannibal. As it was in digital format, he didn’t have to worry about running out of tape. Soon enough, Will found himself ringing Hannibal’s doorbell and being greeted by the other man’s smiling face. “Hi, Hannibal.”

“Good evening, Will. It’s good to see you, please come in.” While acting the perfect host, Hannibal noticed the package Will held was wrapped in butcher’s paper.

As if in response, Will looked down and held out his hand. “This is for you… for us.”

Hannibal tilted his head in curiosity. He also noticed the errant red, curly hair on the shoulder of Will’s shirt. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

Will swallowed hard as he followed Hannibal into the kitchen. “It’s… well, you’ve heard the news.”

“And what news would that be?” Hannibal had turned away from Will to remove his black suit jacket. It matched his slacks, and both sported a deep burgundy pinstripe which matched his shirt. Hannibal unbuttoned his shirtsleeves and rolled them up to his elbows. The solid black vest he wore helped lend contrast to his tanned, muscular forearms.

“Freddie Lounds has gone missing.”

Hannibal turned back to face Will, studying Will’s facial expressions while his own face remained impassive. “Yes, I’ve heard that. What a shame.” He moved to open Will’s offering, smelling the meat. His eyes squinted. “I’m afraid that I’m having a problem identifying this meat, Will. It’s not elk, or bison. It’s not pork.”

“It is, in a way.”

“In a way?”

“Yes. It’s long pig.”

Hannibal’s lips betrayed him as they pulled upwards at one corner. “This is long pig, Will?”

Will’s smile was terse. “Yes. She was a long, slim pig who fought back. She fought back quite a bit, actually.” Will tilted his head to provide Lecter with a better view of the scratch marks that were still visible on his neck. It was a good thing that Jack insisted that Will’s absence from the office would lend credence to their story that he had killed Freddie. Otherwise, Will would have appeared to have been attacked.

Lecter’s smile spread to his whole face. “Will, thank you for this gift.”

“Well, it was my turn to provide the meat, after all.” If he didn’t know better, Will would have sworn that he saw the start of a tear forming at the corner of Hannibal’s eye.

“And you will cook her with me? I’ll do most of the work. Would you be my sous chef?”

“I’d love to.” The words came out of Will’s mouth before he had a chance to think about what to say. Lecter wrapped a black apron around himself before bringing a dark green one to Will. He held it out, wordlessly offering to help Will into it. **This was a game.** Hannibal was a cat, but Will was a mouse. Will was the bait, and an excellent angler. He ducked his head slightly as Hannibal came up from behind to place the apron over his head and tie it behind him, noticing the earthy smell of the oils Will had carefully mixed and applied to his neck.

About a year earlier, a morning news show did a puff piece about how scientists had discovered that men were naturally attracted to the smell of vanilla. While Will liked vanilla just fine, he couldn’t help but notice that Hannibal had tied his apron strings but hadn’t yet moved. He started to look behind him when Hannibal snapped back to their present reality.

“Are you ready?”

Will frowned. “I think I ought to do mine up like yours,” he replied, beginning to roll up his shirtsleeves, “and I should probably wash my hands, too.”

Hannibal had set out a variety of vegetables and herbs on his island counter in anticipation of Will’s arrival. After Will finished washing his hands, Hannibal handed him a knife. “I hope you like parsnips.”

Will set the knife on the cutting board and reached out to grab some onions. “Yes, I do. They’re great roasted.”

Hannibal washed his hands, using his arm to lightly turn off the faucet before wiping his hands on a towel. He handed Will parsnips and purple carrots. “I know that many people view carrots and parsnips to be very much alike, but these purple carrots have a sweet, peppery taste about them. And I think you’ll like what I do with the parsnips. But first, you’ll want to peel them. Here’s a peeler, and then cut them into one-inch rectangles, if you will.”

Will had already started in on peeling the onions. He’d asked Hannibal how he should slice them, and Hannibal suggested that he do them as if they were going to roast for all eternity with the long pig. Both men smiled at the humor behind Hannibal’s comment, both with the understanding that Freddie was apparently dead.

While Will was working on the onions, Hannibal had started heating up a large cast iron skillet with deep sides. He poured healthy amounts of oil and sherry to the hot pan before allowing the meat to sear on all sides to lock in the flavor. After a few minutes, he turned the heat down and watched Will work. He took the opportunity to pour them both a small snifter of sherry. After Will took his sherry, Hannibal raised his glass up. “To our enduring friendship and evolving understanding of one another.” 

Will couldn’t help but feel touched despite the hatred he harbored in his heart. Of course, love and hate were merely two sides of the same coin, weren’t they? Both emotions possessed the ability to grow over time, and both were rooted in the heart, where emotions overtook logic. However, Hannibal also understood and accepted Will and the unrelenting darkness which seemed to surround him whereas other people, such as Jack and even Alana, were frightened of him. Hannibal never appeared to be frightened of him. Of course, maybe that was because Hannibal was a hunter, one who reigned supreme at the top of the food chain. 

Like the powerful, deceptive maneater lions of Africa, Hannibal had poise and grace while possessing the capacity to render his prey immobile and helpless at any time. Yet, here Will stood, preparing dinner with him, and toasting to their friendship.

A flood of emotions came over Will as his hand faltered and he dropped his knife. “Ah, shit,” he exclaimed, leaning down. Unfortunately, as he did so, he also managed to step on an apron string. His left hand, holding the snifter, fumbled around blind in an attempt to set the glass down without shattering it. Hannibal rushed over, taking the glass from Will and setting it down, allowing Will to stand back up unimpeded. He held out the knife to Hannibal. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, you’ve done nothing wrong.” Hannibal took the knife and placed it away from the cutting board so that it could be washed. Yet again, he was behind Will. He noticed Will’s apron ties swinging side to side, and he pulled them tightly. Will grunted in surprise as Hannibal took the opportunity to let his nose occupy the area right behind Will’s neck, above his left shoulder. “You smell much better than the meat, if I’m being honest,” Hannibal purred.

Will opened his mouth to respond but only managed to raise his eyebrows. He felt Hannibal press up against him so that he was pinned between the counter and Hannibal’s body. He could feel Hannibal inhale deeply, his lips grazing the back of Will’s neck. **What the hell was going on**?

Hannibal grabbed Will’s shoulders as he leaned in to bite Will’s earlobe. Will’s hands splayed out flat against the counter to keep himself upright as Hannibal pressed his weight against him. “Hannibal,” Will whispered weakly.

“Will,” Hannibal echoed, breathing into his ear. Will could feel Hannibal stiffen as he pressed himself against Will, letting his hips buck forward, slowly but firmly.

Will was completely discombobulated – he didn’t know what to think; he _couldn’t_ think. He couldn’t breathe. The world wasn’t here. The lights were too bright, or perhaps they weren’t on at all. He could feel Lecter undoing his apron and then pulling on his shirt collar to expose more of his neck as one hand grabbed his hip. The room was spinning, swirling. He wasn’t gay, but it didn’t matter. Why the hell was he here? Why was he just visiting and not living here? Hannibal was the only man – the only _person_ – who understood him. And what was he trying to do? Destroy that? No, Jack was trying to destroy that, Jack was trying to take Hannibal away from him. He felt the fake button pop off his collar.

“Whoops,” Hannibal exclaimed softly as his hands began running up and down Will’s body. It would have sounded absurd in any other context. The very small, very distant piece of Will’s rational mind that was still working wondered if Hannibal knew that he was wearing a fake button all this time. Regardless, it made no difference – Hannibal’s passion with him right here and right now was not staged. It wasn’t staged at all.

Will reached back in an effort to find Hannibal’s lips. Hannibal leaned back slightly so that Will could make contact. He tasted sweet, of peppermint. He’d been nervous about coming tonight. Maybe he had anticipated all of this? No, at least not consciously. But regardless, Will was sharing an intimate part of himself with Hannibal, and for that he deserved credit. Hannibal spun Will around to face him before covering Will’s mouth with his own as he undid his own apron ties. He heard Will moan and it excited him even more. Hannibal threw off his own apron and his vest before grabbing either side of Will’s shirt front and tearing it open, sending more buttons flying. Graham groaned in ecstasy and pushed his head back, giving Lecter full access to his neck and chest.

Will cried out Hannibal’s name when hot, wet kisses were placed all over his neck. To Hannibal, who had attended countless operas and arias, this was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It brought his fervor to a boiling point. Letting his daydreams take a backseat to reality, Hannibal reached behind Will to grab a bottle of extra virgin olive oil (he only ever used EVOO) that he’d had imported directly from Italy. What better use for the luxury than to sodomize the one man he wanted more than anything?

Meanwhile, Will returned the attention Hannibal had been giving to him. Despite it being in the evening, Hannibal’s jawline was perfectly smooth. **Hannibal was perfect.** Will unbuttoned Hannibal’s shirt before yanking it off and letting his teeth graze Hannibal’s collarbone as Hannibal worked at undoing Will’s pants. Will hadn’t been touched this lovingly and intimately in years, and he felt himself harden as Hannibal removed his jockey shorts. Will felt lightheaded as Hannibal knelt down to take him in his mouth. Yet again, Will moaned his name and let his head fall back, and it wasn’t long until he spilled his seed into Hannibal’s mouth. Hannibal swallowed it willingly and rose, wiping his lip with the backside of one hand before kissing Will deeply. **Fuck, this felt _so_ good**.

Will’s eyes were closed, his hands pulling Hannibal close to him as he groaned in pleasure. He was unaware of Hannibal grabbing a parsnip, but opened his eyes as he heard the other man break the tip off in his mouth and spit it out across the room. “Do you trust me, Will?” Hannibal asked, smirking, holding up the vegetable.

Before Hannibal had poured the sherry, Will would have been lying, but now he would give Hannibal anything he wanted. His body, his mind, a thousand murders. Anything, if it meant that Hannibal would continue to pleasure him. “Yes, yes,” Will replied breathily.

Hannibal reached over to grab the olive oil. He used the tapered bottle spout and liberally poured oil over the new tip of the parsnip and his fingers. Setting the bottle down, Hannibal turned Will around so that he was again facing the counter. Realizing that he could use another hand, Hannibal put the non-lubricated end of the parsnip in his mouth while oiling up his other hand. He let his right hand reach down, shoving his fingers between Will’s buttocks to lubricate his anus in preparation before grabbing the parsnip out of his mouth and using his left hand to ease it into Will.

Will gasped, his hands slapping down on the counter, fingers splayed. “ _God_ …”

As his instrument became easier to manipulate, Hannibal allowed his right hand to rest on Will’s side, grasping his bare skin as he leaned in to breathe hot air onto Graham’s shoulder. He smelled Will – he was now able to make out the other scents beside the vanilla including sandalwood, bathing oil, and shampoo. While Will may not have consciously set out to seduce him, he was quite obviously trying to both appeal and distract Hannibal tonight. (It was bad enough that every time he saw him, Will seemed to turn his soulful eyes onto Hannibal, making him weak _.) Why had Will gone through so much effort?_ It didn’t matter. What mattered was what Will was letting him do – what Hannibal had wanted to do for so long.

Hannibal, unable to help himself any longer, had to find his own release. While continuing to move his makeshift dildo further into Will - much to Will’s delight - Hannibal let go of his hold on Will’s hip so that he could start to pleasure them both at once. Hearing Will get taken over the edge by his thrusting, hearing Will’s cries and screams resonating off of his hard kitchen walls, did Hannibal in. He edged back slightly as he came, aiming his stream at Will’s buttocks as he removed the parsnip, tossing it to the ground near their feet.

The removal of Hannibal’s prop along with the hot splash of semen against his skin ruined Will. Will’s legs gave out from under him, but Hannibal was quick to act, grabbing his torso from behind to help him support himself using the counter. Hannibal looked up at the cast iron pan before smiling and bringing his lips to the back of Will’s neck. “I’m afraid I may have burned the pig.” He heard Will laugh with relief.

“I’m,” Will paused, “actually rather tired tonight. Let’s skip dinner, Hannibal.” Will looked behind him to match his lips to Hannibal’s after shooting a lustful glance at him. Both men closed their eyes, feeling bliss.


	5. After the Parsnip

Will hadn’t given the bug much thought after Hannibal had distracted him from cutting the onions. He also hadn’t realized that Jack would be in bright and early on Friday morning to listen to the audio recording. In fact, Jack was so anxious to nail Hannibal for his myriad of murders that he was in the office well before seven. 

Upon starting the recording, Jack heard Will turn the device on and the men exchange pleasantries. He heard Will bait Lecter will Freddie Lounds’ disappearance, telling Lecter that he brought long pig for the two of them to share. Jack couldn’t help but notice how happy Hannibal sounded. He paused the recording to go out and grab a cup of coffee from the pot he’d started when he’d first arrived at the office. He always liked when he could grab the first cup from a fresh pot.

Returning back to his chair, his feet up on the desk and coffee in hand, Jack restarted the recording. He took a sip, his mind still clouded with the fog of sleep despite his eagerness. He hoped to have enough to get a warrant to search Lecter’s house. Jack was convinced that he would find some part of Beverly that Lecter had kept for his own edible trophy. He let his eyes close, debating on whether or not to fast forward to Lecter and Will actually eating. Crawford realized that Will hadn’t touched base with him like they’d discussed. Perhaps he would this morning. Perhaps Lecter had an inkling of their plan after all. Perhaps he didn’t take the bait. Perhaps Will was ----

The sound of heavy breathing and Will’s shirt buttons flying as he began to moan jolted Jack upright with a start. He fucking had a mouthful of coffee, dammit! **You ever have fucking coffee go out your damned nose at 8 o’clock in the fucking morning while the man you entrusted to snag a ruthless serial killer was fucking** \----

“Hey Jack, I was just wondering if--” Jimmy Price was at Crawford’s door with a report in one hand. Upon seeing Crawford do a spit take while listening to two men going at it hot and heavy (because Jimmy had _plenty_ of experience to know what was going on), Price accidentally let go of his file, papers scattering everywhere.

“Dammit, Jimmy!” Crawford cried, frantically stopping the recording and shutting his eyes, rubbing his nose to get that ‘good to the last drop’ feeling out of his nostrils.

Jimmy swiped up his papers and abruptly turned to exit Crawford’s office. “I’ll come back later!” he yelled, leaving before Jack had one of his explosive fits. Lord knows they’d been happening more lately – especially since Beverly’s death – but Price reckoned that Jack should probably find somewhere a little more private if he wanted to engage in… _that_.

Jack closed and locked his door before rifling through his desk to find an old pair of earphones. He plugged them into his computer and pressed play again. Now that he knew what to expect, he merely sat hunched over, his hand at his temple as though he was getting a migraine. After Hannibal had snapped the device off of Will’s shirt, it almost seemed as if the sound of them… copulating was echoing in triple fold. 

**Geezus, Graham**. You had one job to do. **One job.** And yet – Jack couldn’t tell if Hannibal was using himself or something else to enter Will but it didn’t seem to matter – Will sounded happier than Jack had **ever** heard him. **Fuck. Freddie was right!** It looked like he owed her $50 from when she bet him in the car on the way to Richmond that it wouldn’t be long until she got to use the title “murder husbands” when writing about Graham and Lecter. “You’d better not,” Jack had threatened.

“Or what, Jack? You owe me for what I’m doing for you. You may think that you know Graham and that you can trust him, but I’ve always known what a nutjob he is – and you didn’t see him in that damned barn with me!” Of course, she was right. But, he honestly hadn’t expected this. Will never seemed… well, he seemed flighty at times, but what could be expected of a guy who could see how other people committed murder in his mind? **Fuck**.

~~~~~~

After deciding that dinner was ruined, Hannibal took Will up to his bedroom. Will had been keyed up for days, and was drained after the unexpected kitchen experience. It _had_ been his first time, after all. He still wasn’t sure how he managed to walk up all the stairs that led to Hannibal’s second floor, it felt as though there had been 200 of those damned things to climb. Meanwhile, Hannibal seemed to have taken the stairs three at a time. He had gone from being behind Will to overtaking him until, when Will was close, he was waiting for him with an outstretched hand. “Thanks, I’m… exhausted.” Will looked up at Hannibal, his eyes smiling.

“Then let’s get you to bed.” As Will stepped into the hallway, Hannibal put his hand around his waist and led him into the bedroom.

“Wow,” Will exclaimed upon seeing Hannibal’s room. “Your bedroom is the fanciest room I’ve ever been in in my whole life.”

Hannibal smirked with amusement. “Perhaps you should come over for dinner more often.” Will considered it – maybe he _should_ come more often.

Hannibal pulled back the duvet and sheet, inviting Will into his bed. Will looked down at himself. All he had on were his socks. He balanced on one foot and then the other to rip off his tan dress socks. He normally wore white athletic footwear, but in his efforts to get Hannibal on his hook, he put effort into his appearance. After he discarded the last of his clothes, Will slipped into Hannibal’s bed. Hannibal slipped in besides him and pulled up the silk sheet over their bodies, the sheet resting at their shoulders. The two men looked at one another, Hannibal closing his eyes briefly before checking that Will was actually in his bed. He leaned forward to let his lips greet Will’s, and his left hand rose from underneath the covers to graze Will’s face. He had let Will see him in a way that no one else had – he let Will see what was inside his heart, and Will was still here, with Hannibal, naked, in his bed. Will smiled at him and closed his eyes, his exhaustion evident. And, for the first time since Mischa’s death so many years ago, Hannibal allowed his own eyes to close, and he slept well, without nightmares, without hearing screaming amid the darkness.


	6. The Next Morning

Will awoke the next morning to find Hannibal still slumbering beside him. **I knew that I was a master angler _,_** Will thought to himself. Then, another part of his brain chimed in. _Is that really what you want to do? You want to betray the one man who readily sees and accepts the darkness inside your heart and insists on believing in you, insists on devoting time for you and you alone? Who else is willing to be alone with you for any length of time – you know that even Jack is uncertain of your sanity. Hannibal doesn’t care about your sanity, he just cares about you. As a person, as an individual. Jack is more than willing to take advantage of your darkness if it means helping the Bureau make an arrest, but do you just want to be valued solely as a special cog in a machine – a large machine? No one will care about you a year after you’re gone, a year after you’re no longer more useful than not to the FBI. They’ll just chew you up and spit you out, but Hannibal, he wants to consume you._

Hannibal is flawed in his own right. A man like Hannibal, one who prides himself on his perfectly cultured lifestyle has a diametrically opposed habit where he engages in violence – murder and cannibalism. Why? What happened to him to cause him to act in such a way? Should Will, should the FBI, seek to restrain him, deny him his life? Could Hannibal live, could he truly survive without practicing cannibalism? What did it feed deep inside him, where the fractured shell of a man lived? No one was going into the jungles and deserts of the southern hemisphere, arresting everyone who resorted to cannibalism as a religious ritual or even as just a means to an end, a way to survive in this hard, harsh world. And imagine how hard it must be to live in those environments….

Will was the first to admit that he was an omnivore; in fact, a good steak – be it from a cow or fish, was one of his favorite culinary delights. And, while he hadn’t realized it when he was partaking, Will apparently also tolerated human meat quite well. Of course, Hannibal was an excellent cook…. Maybe Hannibal was, well, not quite a hero, but maybe he really was doing a sort of civic duty to the world. 

Looking back at his suspected list of victims, aside from those he took in self-preservation (like Bev and Miriam Lass), Hannibal seemed to end the lives of people who appeared distasteful to him. Will laughed – Hannibal turned those who were distasteful to him and perhaps most of society – into dishes that any meat eater would adore. _Perhaps if more distasteful people, like Freddie Lounds, were harvested, there would be no more hunger problems in the world_.

Okay, that was a step too far, even for him. But, perhaps it was his empathy that allowed Will to find a new appreciation for Hannibal’s craft. After all, it’s not like the man was _constantly_ killing people. And, Will had to admit that the times he took a life, after getting over the initial rush of fear and panic, had felt good. It was no wonder that Hannibal believed in God – he played god every time he chose to take or spare a life.

“But what about me?”, Will asked himself. How could Hannibal actively try to frame and even kill Will if he cared enough about him to show himself to Will? Perhaps that was just part of the flaw in Hannibal’s personality. Surely, he must have had some trauma in his own life to act so destructive to those whose inclusion in his life he honestly seemed to value.

Finally, Hannibal started to stir. His eyes slowly opened, and he regarded Will sleepily. “How did you sleep?”, he asked, his voice evidence that he was not quite awake yet himself.

“Very comfortably. It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a bed with anyone but my dogs.”

Hannibal smiled. “I’m glad to hear it. I want you to feel comfortable here, Will.”

The way Hannibal spoke his name, with such warmth, moved Will. How could he be plotting this man’s capture and really, his demise? After all, wild, powerful creatures like Hannibal didn’t deserve to be caged. African parrots were beautiful and intelligent, but wasn’t it a bit sadistic to decide to cage them up for our own pleasure? We’ve known for years that elephants not only need large tracts of land where they can live with their pacts (because they are indeed herd animals, just like humans), but that their lifespans are drastically decreased in captivity, in part due to the significant increase in depression many of them encounter.

Perhaps Garrett Jacob Hobbs wasn’t such a monster after all, aside from attempting to murder his own family. Hobbs honored all parts of his prey. By ingesting their victims, both Hobbs and Hannibal honored their victims by eating them. In fact, they both shared the fruits of their labor with those they loved the most.

**Shit, Hannibal’s in love with me**. Turns out that, for all of her faults, Freddie Lounds was right. Will had to fight back tears. No one in his life saw him so completely yet was so eager to be with him as Hannibal. He was contemplating whether it was possible to both love and hate someone at once when Hannibal interrupted his thoughts. “You appear to be upset, Will. What’s wrong?”

Will seized the opportunity to present Hannibal with the chance to tell the truth and admit to his demons. “Hannibal… what happened to Mischa?”

Hannibal raised his eyebrows at the question – it was not at all what he was expecting. He inhaled deeply, deciding how to tell Will his truth. How much should he offer as a response? “She died when we were young. My family lived in a forest estate in Lithuania. It was not a palace, but it was palatial. I was fairly young, but Mischa, she was just a girl of seven.

“Our parents had left to try to find us all safe haven. They split up to increase their odds of finding help, but the soldiers must have been watching because within a day after our mother and father had left, they had arrived. They didn’t knock on the door, they just came in, scouted around, and declared that they were in charge.” Hannibal had shared more than Will had expected, but he grew silent soon enough.

“Hannibal, what happened to Mischa?” **Silence.** Will decided to try one last time. “Hannibal, did you kill Mischa?”

Will saw Hannibal’s face harden in response, his eyes became glassy with tears. “No, I did not kill her. Not directly, although I hold myself responsible for her death – I always will.”

Will realized at once that Mischa had been murdered, and that as a boy himself, Hannibal had been helpless to save her from those that forced themselves into the Lecter estate after their parents had gone. “You didn’t kill her, Hannibal. You did not cause your sister’s death.”

Hannibal was breathing heavily, reliving the one event that had haunted him since it had occurred, the one event that – like Freddie’s discovery on how sausage was made – had irreparably changed his life forever. Hannibal’s aunt and uncle interrogated the remaining soldier that Hannibal had managed to lock up in the basement cellar, questioning the soldier to learn what had happened to the youngest Lecter sibling; Hannibal had refused to speak of it. He had not talked to anyone about what happened to his beloved sister until now.

“I was ordered to go out and gather firewood even though I had explained to them that there was plenty. Mischa had been in the corner, playing with her dolls. I didn’t want to leave her, but one of them, the one my aunt would question later, pointed his Garand at me, flipped the safety off, and put his finger on the trigger, gesturing towards me. I figured that if I could avoid any further confrontation and prevent the soldiers from shouting and upsetting her, it would be for the best. 

“They forced me out of my familial home so that they could butcher my sister like she was swine. They spoke in a tongue I could not understand despite knowing three languages by then, otherwise, I would not have gone. One of them kept watch over me and kept directing me to go farther and farther into the forest. Again, I wanted to refuse, but by that time I had grown afraid. I had found ample fallen twigs laying on the ground, but the soldier insisted that the logs had to be bigger in order to start an ample fire. Again, I knew that this was false, but I was too scared to question him. After what was surely a half hour, perhaps forty minutes, he grabbed me by the shirt collar and started dragging me back.

“‘Let’s go. They should be done with her by now,” the soldier commanded. I had searched frantically for a branch that he would deem sufficient. I could have found a whole felled tree, and he would have declined – he was only keeping me outside, separated from Mischa long enough so that his sergeant and the rest of their group could kill her without me hearing and interfering.

“Upon realizing the meaning behind his words, I ran back as fast as I could, barging through the door that lead directly into the kitchen. I found blood splatters from where they had slit her throat, her clothes piled into a heap on the floor in one corner. The red ribbon she always wore in her hair had fallen, matted into the ground with the blood they had spilled from her. I tried to pick it up, but the one that had been keeping watch over me ran in behind me and restrained me. I raged against them all, shouting, yelling, unafraid of what their bullets would do to me. Why they did not kill me then and there, I will never know. 

“After their stew was done, they force fed her to me. The leader told me that they were saving me by feeding me, that my parents had died, and that Mischa would not have survived anyhow, so her death was not murder, but was actually mercy. By then, I had my own opinions on how they knew the fate of my parents. I spat out the first spoonful of meat and broth that was forced into my mouth, but they ensured that I swallowed the second, and third, and fourth.

“I managed to wrest my chest loose enough that I could reach to bite the hand that came to feed me a fifth spoonful. I bit the first finger of the hand that approached me with as much strength as I could muster, detaching it at the knuckle. I practically choked on it as I sat, tied up, chewing it gleefully, cackling with madness. I was hit from behind hard enough to render me unconscious. They retrieved the finger from my mouth, but they could never reattach it. Just like my soul and my family, that digit had been severed from its body forever.”

Hannibal stopped talking and merely regarded Will. Will had listened intently, shocked, appalled, and utterly disgusted as Lecter’s metamorphosis from mild boy to unwilling cannibal was laid out before him. Will knew the answer, but he still felt compelled to ask. “Is that why you do it now? To reclaim Mischa?”

“Not to reclaim her,” Hannibal responded, “but to honor her sacrifice. She was braver than I ever was, and while her flesh was forced upon me, I could never forgive myself if I let her die in vain. I am alive today because she was sacrificed.

“Some older brothers find younger sisters to be their life’s main annoyance when they are young. Not me. I **adored** Mischa. Life had been wonderful before she came along, but having a sibling to love, teach, and inspire completed me, much like Abigail completed us.”

“But you killed Abigail.”

Lecter paused. “Get dressed, I have something to show you.” Hannibal rose from bed and grabbed two robes, handing one to Will. Will did as he was told. The robe hung from the shorter man loosely – it had obviously been custom-made for Hannibal’s frame. “Follow me.” Hannibal left his room and Will obeyed, following close behind. The two men came to a room at the end of the hall. Hannibal knocked five times in close succession. “You can come out now, it’s me. It’s time he knows.”

The door opened and there, standing before them, stood Abigail Hobbs. Will felt faint. “But how?” he asked, looking from Hannibal to Abigail in puzzlement.

“We faked my death,” Abigail’s voice sounded like heaven to Will’s ears.

“Abigail?” Will rushed toward her, embracing her as he began to cry. “Abigail, I’ve missed you so much.”

Hannibal reached out to touch Will’s shoulder. “You didn’t really think that I would kill the one person in the world that we both cared so deeply about, did you, Will?”

Will looked back up at Lecter. The guilt on his face made his answer evident.

“Hannibal was just trying to help protect me, protect us.”

“How?”

“By faking Abigail’s death, it would give her a fresh start, away from the stigma of her father, away from the stigma of her past.” Will finally understood Hannibal – he had run from his traumatic past and given himself a fresh start, and he was trying to do the same for Abigail. “By pretending that she was gone, we removed her from the public eye, and also removed the scrutiny you and I faced for being her champions when Jack Crawford believed her a killer, albeit rightly so.”

Will sighed. “You’ve got Jack pegged to a tee.” **Shit, he had to come clean**. Hannibal did all this for him (and for Abigail), but he would gut Will like a fish if he discovered the truth before Will confessed. “And actually, Hannibal, I need to talk to you about Jack.” Abigail caught Will’s eye. “Alone.”

“You can talk here if you want. I can go downstairs and start breakfast.”

“Why don’t you go ahead and eat, but I might be awhile with Hannibal.”

“Like you were last night?”

“Abigail,” Lecter chastised, “manners.”

The teenaged girl eyed them both haughtily before heading downstairs. 

“Can we go to your room?”

“Certainly. Although I get the distinct feeling that I’m not going to like what you have to tell me, Will.”

“I suppose it depends on whether you value loyalty over honesty.”

Will followed Hannibal back into the room from which they had only moments ago emerged. “Have a seat,” Hannibal offered, gesturing to the bed as he sat on a nearby wingback chair.

“Thank you, but I’d rather stand.” Against his better judgement, Will closed the door. He wasn’t sure whether Abigail would be able to hear any of their conversation, but he would rather that she didn’t. Unbeknownst to him, she had collected up their clothes and began cleaning the kitchen from last night’s failed attempt at dinner. If Will had paid attention when they passed through the dining room to get upstairs last night, he would have seen that Hannibal had set three place settings for dinner.

“Hannibal….” Will began, a lump of fear petrifying him. 

“Will, the three of us, you, Abigail, and me, we’re alive. And now the three of us can finally be the family that Abigail deserves, that you and I have both lacked for most of our lives.”

Guilt washed over Will. He couldn’t just tell Hannibal about the recording device, he had to tell him about Randall, about Freddie, about all of it. The words came out of Will’s mouth before he had a chance to think them through. “Hannibal, please just listen to everything with an open mind and understand that I learned more about you in the last 18 hours than I ever expected. Things I could never have guessed.” Lecter sat in the chair, fingers intertwined, resting atop his crossed legs. Per usual, he appeared disinterested despite listening to every word Will spoke.

“I know that you killed Beverly because she was trying to help me. And I know that you killed Miriam Lass because she stumbled upon you. I know that you’ve killed scores of people, and I know that you were the Chesapeake Ripper long before anyone else believed me. Hell, long before I had even accepted it. And I know that you framed both me and Chilton for your crimes, but again, that you did so out of self-preservation. I had thought that you had killed Abigail, but seeing her here in front of me amazed me. While I may have been struggling on whether to crucify you or forgive you, there’s no doubt in my mind what I need to do.

“I’ve lied to you. I’ve been lying to you for some time.”

“I know.”

“Maybe. Maybe you know _some_ of it but not everything. You don’t know that Freddie Lounds is alive and that she agreed to help Jack and me catch you. Twenty-four hours ago, I was firmly convinced that you belonged behind bars for the rest of your life, however long that might be. But I can’t let that happen now. Not since I’ve gotten to know more about you and why you are how you are.” Will shook his head and smirked. “I may not fully understand you and how your past really molded you into the man I know today, but I know that it would be inhumane for me to contribute to your confinement. Not after what you’ve done for Abigail – she looks great, by the way.”

Hannibal smiled softly. “I’m glad to hear you say that. She’s been very eager to see you again, but I told her that she had to wait until you were ready. I am curious though, Will, who or what did you bring to my kitchen last night?”

“Randall Tier.”

Hannibal blinked once. “And you do know that although it was unknowingly, you have ingested my victims on several occasions?”

“Yes.”  
  
“Who else knows about your plan to entrap me?”

“Just Crawford and Lounds. That’s it. Jack was afraid of too many cooks in the kitchen.”

“As well as he should be. After all, just look what happened between us last night.” Will noticed the prurient tone in Hannibal’s voice and watched as Hannibal’s gaze went slowly up his body, a smirk on his lips. Will had seen that look on Hannibal countless times before but he had not recognized its meaning until now. _Hannibal really did find him irresistible._

Hannibal rose and sat on the bed, and Will sat down beside him. Lecter let one hand travel onto Will’s thigh, moving the robe aside to caress his bare skin as he nuzzled Will’s ear. “And how should we fix this situation you’ve put us all in, Will?” Graham swallowed hard. Somehow, Hannibal instinctively knew how to target his peculiar carnal weaknesses in ways that women he’d dated for years never discovered.

“We need to do something,” Will mumbled weakly before turning his lips to meet Hannibal’s and parting his legs to let Hannibal’s hand travel up to his groin. “ _Jesus_ ….”

“He is of no use to us at the present moment,” Hannibal purred against Will’s lips. “We need to find a way that the three of us can start a new life together. Abigail has been waiting patiently, Will. I’ve got bags packed, passports, all we need is to arrange for one-way passage to somewhere remote. Somewhere outside of the jurisdiction of the FBI. I know Florence well. I could get us a flight departing to Italy tonight.”

What small part of Will’s brain was still functioning sent up signals. “No. It’s too obvious. Jack will look for you there.”

“Let’s kill Jack then,” Hannibal purred into Will’s ear before straddling him, his robe slipping open to reveal his chest.

**_Sure, why not?_** Will shook his head vigorously against his own thoughts. “No, that won’t work.”

Hannibal sat back, his weight resting on Will’s thighs and knees. “Then what do you propose?”

Will took a minute to think before speaking again. “We need to make it seem like you became wise to our plan, that you killed me.”

“I could leave one of your molars in my kitchen for the FBI to find.”

“Yes.”

“And no one besides us know that Abigail’s still alive.” Hannibal kissed Will deeply as his cock pressed up against Will.

“Yes,” Will moaned. “Freddie will write some bullshit piece about how she helped Jack Crawford and the FBI, and about how you found out anyhow.”

“You’re just as dark as me now.” It was Hannibal’s way of telling Will that he loved him, and somehow Will knew it.

“I’m just as dark as you now,” Will echoed. _I love you, too_.

Hannibal shifted his weight. “And you want me inside of you right now, don’t you?”

Will kissed him in response before backing up on the bed, tossing his robe aside so that he could turn to present himself to Hannibal. He was a bit sensitive from last night’s exploits, but Will figured that he would get used to it in time.

Hannibal took a moment to reach into his bedside table and pull out a small bottle. At first, Will thought that it was more olive oil, but he recognized it as sweet almond oil once he was able to smell it. Hannibal, who was already rock hard, poured a healthy amount onto his hand before rubbing it down the length of his shaft, using the remainder to lubricate and loosen Will up. He slid not one but two fingers into Will before standing up on his knees, using one hand to guide himself into Will while the other one gently but firmly held Will’s torso. Will, who had been laying face down on Hannibal’s bed, grasped a pillow as if his life depended on it, trying to muffle his own screams and moans now that he knew that Abigail was nearby, presumably eating breakfast.

While Hannibal was usually in control of his bodily functions, his body reacted to Will’s in a way he hadn’t realized was possible. He found himself having to slow down several times so that he wouldn’t peak too early and spoil the party. But, upon hearing Will beg him to come deep inside of him, it took all Hannibal had not to finish with a thrust that would shove his headboard into the wall, leaving a dent. **Fuck**.

After a few moments, Will’s breathing slowed and he was able to stop moaning Hannibal’s name. (While Hannibal believed in a Christian god of his own perverse view, he never expected Will to alternate between his name and God’s; however, he didn’t mind since Will breathed his name as if it were a prayer.)


	7. Time to Plot as a Murder Family

Despite the men intending to have breakfast with Abigail, Hannibal and Will did not leave the second story until lunch time. It took a bit of convincing, but Will finally made Hannibal realize that killing Jack Crawford was not the answer to their problem. (Then again, after giving all of himself to Will, Graham could have asked anything of Hannibal and he’d have agreed.) Instead, since Will had already convinced Jack that Hannibal was the Chesapeake Ripper, Hannibal agreed with Will’s theory that they could easily convince Jack that Lecter had added Will to his list of victims (of which Abigail was added long ago based on Will’s reality during his stay at the BSHCI).

“Tell me, Will, how do you propose we enact our charade to best ensnare Jack with our made-up version of the truth?”, Hannibal had asked.

“Well, for starters, I won’t show up to work on Monday. But, I’m sorry Hannibal, I can’t go with you and Abigail if it means leaving my dogs behind. You two can still go; I won’t betray you, but I can’t leave my dogs.”

“Can’t you have Alana look after them like she did… _before_?”

“No. Because if everyone assumes that I’m dead, that means that she gets my dogs permanently. I can’t just go to her house one night and kidnap all nine of them without anyone being suspicious.”

“Of course.” Will made a good point. Hannibal had a cat once in his youth, in Lithuania, but he put all notions of having a companion animal out of his mind once he finally got to Florence. It was just easier that way. The less baggage one had, the harder it was to be captured. Yet, here he was, already taking on full responsibility for a 19-year-old girl, and about to devote his life to a man with nine dogs. **Nine**.

Hannibal was always good at brainstorming on the fly. His parents had encouraged critical thinking skills while they were still part of his life, and his Uncle Robertus continued such after he had become an orphan as the sole survivor of his immediate family. “We stage a break-in. You can take your dogs, and Abigail and I will toss your house as if we were looking for valuables.” Hannibal knew that the entire contents of Will’s house could be repurchased for less than the cost of his antique, solid mahogany dining table, but he also knew better than to say so. “You can also retrieve anything of sentimental value, and enough clothes to last you a few weeks until we’ve touched down and laid low for awhile.”

“And then?” Will asked.

“And then, I will call TattleCrime, tell them that I, Hannibal Lecter, am indeed the Chesapeake Ripper as Will Graham had long suspected. I’ll say that I know that Freddie is still alive, and that she’ll have to find you alive if she ever wants her interview. But, I’ll do that after our plane tickets are booked. I have a former patient who owes me a favor, and he’ll establish a VPN for a computer call. I’ll record my message via cell phone, and then he will use a Florida VPN to call TattleCrime.”

“Why Florida, and do you trust this former patient of yours?” Will asked, surprised at how complete Hannibal’s plan was at this rudimentary phase.

“Because who would ever expect me to be in Florida? Crawford and the rest of your former coworkers will raid the house and they will find your tooth, but we’ll have already burned anything incriminating. In fact, as much as I love this house and my office, I would almost burn it all if not for the fact that it would involve the Baltimore PD and Fire Department. We don’t need them dissolves our time advantage.

“As for the former patient, as you well know with Randall Tier, I’ve counseled several unique clients over the years who have appreciated my discretion about their own extracurricular activities. This man appreciated my vow of secrecy so much that he told me that if I ever needed a hand like the one I gave him, he would be happy to be of service. And, you know what they say Will, ‘a friend in need is a friend, indeed.’”

Hannibal was not only willing to burn his whole life down to be with Will, but he was willing to let Will take what he needed from his own life first, including his dogs. Alyssa hadn’t even let him discuss his depression with her. Sometimes Will really didn’t understand those whom society deemed “normal” and “functioning”.

~~~~~~

After they had come up with a rudimentary plan to which they could both agree, Will and Hannibal joined Abigail downstairs to let her in on such. She was a crucial element, and one of them ( _Will_ ) would have been dead or partially decapitated without her in their lives.

Hannibal and Will found Abigail practicing the harpsichord. “Are we going to have one of these when we move?”

“If at all possible, yes,” Hannibal responded.

Abigail looked at both men. They were both in lounge pants and long sleeve shirts, and Abigail noticed that Will was yet again wearing Hannibal’s clothes. “I thought you guys were coming down for breakfast.”

“We… had some things to discuss, so now we’re here for lunch,” Will explained.

Abigail rolled her eyes while playing a scale. “You two are gross.”

“Abigail, we only want what everyone else in the world wants – to be loved for who we truly are. And we’re willing to upturn our lives to be a part of yours. I know that you’re still grieving from everything that’s happened to you in the last year, but you should still be capable of showing us the respect we deserve for stepping up to care for you after your own father made you an orphan.” Hannibal’s tone wasn’t harsh, but his words were rather to the point, and it shocked both Abigail and Will slightly.

“Will killed my dad.”

She always knew what to say to hurt Will, as did Hannibal. "Abigail... he sliced your throat. If I hadn't shot him when I did, he would've severed your jugular and you would have bled out immediately, before the paramedics could arrive. And without Hannibal's medical expertise allowing him to apply pressure on your neck, you still would have bled to death." Now it was Will's turn to surprise himself with his fatherly tone.

“Abigail, everything we’ve done, we’ve done for you,” Hannibal added.

“What about when you framed Will for murder?”

 _Teenagers_! Hannibal tilted his head and grinned, just like a parent explaining himself to a headstrong child. “While it was not ideal, it was necessary. It was only through Will’s becoming like us that he was ready to see me for who I really am, and see you for who you really are, including your rise from the ashes.” The seemed to satisfy Abigail as she began plinking keys to play the beginning of The Goldberg Variations. She knew that it was Hannibal’s favorite song, and it had become her unspoken way of apologizing for a harsh word spoken out of turn. The man that had become her savior and de facto parent smiled.

“So, what took you two so long to come down for _breakfast_?” Abigail asked, sitting on the bench to face both Will and Hannibal. Both men knew to what she was implying, and both men chose to ignore it.

“We were hatching a plan,” Will began.

“But we realized that we need your help to succeed,” Hannibal finished. Abigail was a smart girl, but nevertheless, she was still just a girl. Sometimes, an appeal to one’s vanity was the best approach. It turned out that Hannibal was not only a hunter, but an angler as well.

“But I thought you had everything ready?”

“I thought I did, too, but I hadn’t considered Will’s needs. He needs a chance to retrieve some items, and he needs the chance to remove his dogs.”

“Wait, does that mean that I can _finally_ have a pet?”

“No more pets. Nine dogs will be plenty. We’re trying to _not_ get caught. That means no more collecting random dogs for you either, Will.” Hannibal looked towards Will with raised eyebrows. Will knew that he was trying to appear serious and tough, especially around Abigail, but he also figured that if he found another stray, he could push the number up to ten, hell, possibly even twelve dogs!

“Well, I like dogs, so I’m fine with that.” Abigail rose from the harpsichord. “You guys made a mess last night, but I didn’t touch the pan. Will, you’ll learn soon enough not to even attempt to clean Hannibal’s precious cookware.”

“You dropped a teacup once and I didn’t anger.”

“No, but you drugged me, so it was sorta your fault anyhow.” She may have been born a Hobbs, but Abigail’s intelligence and wit were quickly turning her into a Lecter.

~~~~~~

Over a lunch of BLT sandwiches and cucumber salad, the “murder family”, as Abigail had dubbed them, went over their plans. Will expressed surprise when Hannibal revealed that he had not only precured fraudulent passports for both he and Abigail, but he had also bought one for Will. “When did you take my picture without my knowledge?” Will asked.

“That is actually one more small loose end to tie up. I was hoping that you’d be willing to see my stylist who will cut your hair back into something more manageable for the heat of wherever we end up, and that you wouldn’t mind shaving daily for awhile,” Hannibal explained. “Then we’ll get a passport picture taken.”

“What’s wrong with the way I look?”

“Nothing,” Hannibal responded, smirking in a way that Will knew was a sign of his carnal desire, “but I’d prefer if you didn’t look exactly like the Will Graham that the FBI knew.”

“And what about you, Abigail?”

“I’m going to dye my hair blonde. I wanted to just be a boring brunette, but Hannibal said that it would be more extreme this way. I’m also getting a pixie cut – I hope it looks cute on me!” Abigail talked as if she were getting ready to transfer to a new school, not a new life.

“And what about you?”, Will asked Hannibal. Lecter paused a moment, obviously disgusted by his choices. “I’m going to grow stubble, but not a beard. I will also get gray streaks in my hair. I’m hoping to age my appearance five to ten years.”

“You should also let your hair grow out to about the nape of your neck,” Will added.

“Yeah! You’d totally look like a daddy then!” Abigail chimed in.

“Your father was balding and wore his hair closely shaved; I don’t see how I would resemble him at all.”

Will put the back of his hand up to his lips and turned away to try to stifle his laughter, but Abigail did nothing to hide hers.

Hannibal looked at them both, the only one not in on the joke. “Do you mean that I would look like I _could_ be your father?”

Abigail’s hands fell to her sides as she threw her head back. “No! You’d look like a sugar daddy, a DILF!”

“A DILF?”

“A dad I’d like to….” Will trailed off. Hannibal’s eyebrows shot up. His stern look just elicited more laughter from Will and Abigail.

Will started giggling as he came up with an idea. “You could be my sugar daddy, Hanni.”

“And I’m sure my new exotic friends will call you a DILF. Actually, you guys are gonna be my dads now, right? So, you’ll both be DILFs.”

“I—” Will began.

This time Hannibal smiled playfully. “I do have a marriage certificate for us to make it official.”

“Christ! Along with a fake passport? When did this blessed occasion allegedly take place?”

“2013.”

“Last year?”

“Yes, on the Ides of March. Given our tumultuous relationship, I felt it only fitting.”

Will sighed. “Of course you would. And whose biological daughter will Abigail be, or did we adopt her?”

Hannibal answered very quickly. Even if Will ultimately betrayed him, Hannibal really did view Abigail as his second chance to help mold the life he lost with Mischa’s passing. “Mine. I’m older anyhow, and with blonde hair, she’ll look more like me.”

“And I won’t be Abigail anymore, I’ll be Hannah.”

“Why Hannah?”

Abigail looked away shyly. “Because I used to watch Hannah Montana as a girl, and I always admired her ability to have a secret persona. Also, I love palindromes.” 

Will smirked and shook his head. Abigail may not have biologically been Hannibal’s, but she was certainly his daughter now. “So, I’m guessing you’re not going with ‘Montana’ as your surname.”

“No,” Hannibal responded. “She is my child, so she will be Hannah Fell. I will be Dr. Roman Fell. Just what type of doctor I am to be will depend on where we happen to put down roots and what profession I enter. I could go back to being a surgeon, but I’ve always found that to be rather tedious work. I may eventually take psychiatry back up, but I think it would be best for now to stay away from the profession which has provided me with numerous accolades and attention. The last thing we want to do is draw attention to ourselves. Perhaps I can secure a museum curator position or become a private tutor.”

“You want to teach kids?” Will asked skeptically.

“Hannibal’s been teaching me since my death. I’m halfway through sophomore year studies already. C’est magnifique, n’est-ce pas?” Abigail’s eyes grew wide and twinkled as she showed off her newfound French skills. Hannibal would be the first to agree that yes, “it was magnificent, indeed”.

“And what about me then? I’m the lone duckling.”

“Well, both our marriage license and your passport say ‘Jacob Davis’, but Abigail and I figured that we could call you ‘Jack’ for short.”

Will held up his hands. “No, no, absolutely not! You wanted to **kill** my Jack just a few hours ago. I just can’t, Hannibal, I just can’t. Okay? Any why Jacob Davis anyhow?”

“You would have a surname common to the Midwest, and for as long as the Bible has existed, Jacob has been a popular name.”

Will sighed. Jacob Davis it was then. Jacob Davis _he_ was now. “You can call me ‘Jake’ for short, but just promise me that I won’t have to change the dogs’ names. It took Sammy a long time to learn his name. If he gets lost with a new name, I doubt that I’ll ever be able to find him again.”

Hannibal restrained himself from commenting, “so then we would only have eight dogs.”


	8. Where to Now?

The trio finally had their plan for a new life hatched except for where they would go.

“Given that all of this has precipitated in an effort to give Abigail a second chance, I thought that we might listen to her suggestions,” Hannibal offered.

Both men turned to look at Abigail. “Well, I’ve always wanted to go south. Maybe to Brazil, or Cuba, or Argentina. We learned about Cuba and South America in school and they always seemed so exotic, but in a safer way than somewhere like Africa.”

Will spoke up. “Argentina is well-known for harboring Nazis. With your new choice in hair colors, you and Hannibal will fit in just fine.”

“South America in general was quite the haven for S.S. officers, as was America. After all, Will, NASA wouldn’t have had nearly the success it enjoyed in the 50s and 60s without former Nazi scientists. Brazil and Chile had quite a number of officers and collaborators, but that doesn’t necessarily make them bad places. Besides, South America has produced some surprisingly good wine in the last 15 years.”

Will slapped his hands down on the table, causing Abigail to jump. “Well, so long as the wine is good, that’s the important thing.” **_Why was he acting like a dick all of the sudden?_** Perhaps it was due to the ease with which Hannibal had chosen a new identity and life for Will without any input from **_him_**.

“I just thought it’d be easier to go somewhere a little remote but where we could still find other Americans, that’s all,” Abigail explained meekly.

“It’s a good idea, Abigail.” Hannibal put a hand on hers to reassure her. “As Will and I discussed earlier, although I would love to go back to Florence and rediscovery Italy with the two of you, the FBI will be looking for me there. Frankly, that rules out anywhere in Europe worth living. I suppose we could try Denmark, but I think there might be too much of a language barrier for the three of us together – _with the nine dogs_ – to not stick out like a proverbial sore thumb.”

Will realized that he had been selfish and rude to Abigail, whereas all she wanted to do was to start her new life – _their_ – new life together. “Actually, now that I think about it, Abigail’s idea isn’t that bad at all. The powers that be at the FBI are always complaining about how hard it is to extradite anyone back from countries like Chile. While I _do_ like the idea of Cuba, I don’t know that it’ll be safer for us to avoid capture than going to Argentina, if that’s where you’d like to go.” Will turned his empathetic eyes towards Abigail to apologize for his previous outburst. His eyes garnered him more forgiveness than he was ever aware. 

Will didn’t want to live in Argentina in large part because he recalled seeing a snippet of a documentary about the consumption of dog meat in Argentina. Unfortunately, he had remembered incorrectly – Argentina and Chile would be safe for his dogs, whereas Cuba had no animal welfare laws on the books to prohibit the consumption of such. However, despite his mistaken belief that his dogs may be preyed upon in Argentina, acknowledging that Abigail’s idea was a sound one was a peace offering.

Hannibal was always, _well, almost always,_ a step ahead of Will. “It’s not permanent, Will. I suspect that after three to five years, the hunt for me will die down. I may even be able to stage my own death in a way that makes international news. That way Jack Crawford can live out the rest of his days a happy man.”

“I don’t think Jack will ever be happy.” Will’s voice was rueful. Both men knew of Bella Crawford’s fatal cancer diagnosis. Both men knew that it was only a matter of time before Jack would have to say his last goodbye to his wife.

Hannibal regarded the man across from him. “I think perhaps you’re right.” Abigail knew that Will and Hannibal shared some unspoken knowledge about Will’s boss, but she decided that it was best not to ask about it.

Will looked at his new family. “Okay, to Argentina it is - we can try it and if we don’t like the cuisine _or the wine_ ,” he raised his eyebrows at Hannibal, “then we can always move up north a bit in a few years, to Cuba. I’ve always loved a good Cuban!”

Hannibal smiled at Abigail before addressing Will. “I’ve enjoyed several good Cubans, although I presume that you were referring to the sandwich.” He winked at Will. “I’ll start making our travel plans. To make us a bit less conspicuous, I’ll book Abigail a seat next to me in first class, and Will, I’ll put you in coach so that you can have a view of everyone on the jet in case anything is off.” Will nodded. He wasn’t in the least bit pretentious, and he was the only one of the three of them who had actually been in law enforcement. “Abigail, why don’t you go tidy up a bit, maybe start wiping the obvious surfaces around the house of fingerprints, and Will, you can start making an inventory of what you’ll want to take when we visit your house for one last time.”

“I cleaned up your mess from last night already, by the way,” Abigail announced. “And Will, I’m afraid that I stepped on your collar button and smashed it to pieces.”

In his fervor to tell Hannibal everything, he forgot to mention the listening device. With her comment, Abigail was proving to Will that she could be trusted; he regarded her with a newfound appreciation. “I won’t be needing it anymore from now on.” He grinned.


	9. EPILOGUE

Part 1: Immediately Afterwards

As he had promised, Hannibal delivered an airtight plan. Hannibal did not keep a stock of Novocain at the house, so it hurt like hell when he extracted one of Will’s molars, but that tooth would have needed another filling soon anyhow if it had stayed in his head much longer. As planned, after being alerted to Lecter’s call to TattleCrime, Jack Crawford’s team found and tested the tooth and confirmed that it had indeed come from Will. “And he was still alive when the fucker pulled it out!” Zeller had exclaimed.

“Perhaps it’s just to throw off their scent,” Jack had posited aloud to his team. It just didn’t seem like Will was dead, although he couldn’t put his finger on why he felt that way. But, Crawford’s students didn’t call him “The Guru” for nothing – the man just had an innate sense about these sorts of things. Unfortunately, between losing a student and two subordinates to the Chesapeake Ripper in a decade, the fallout from allowing Will to butcher Randall Tier, and the visible stress he was going through as his wife grew weaker by the day, it was easy for Internal Affairs to relieve Jack of duty. He got the standard retirement party, but Price and Zeller stood around with glasses of punch as if they were attending a wake.

“I mean, it kinda is though, isn’t it? It’s not the death of a person, but it’s certainly the death of Jack’s career,” Price remarked to his compatriot. 

“I suppose they find a way to get rid of us all once they consider that we’re past our shelf life. That is, so long as we’re not done in on the job or leave willingly. Lets some new blood come in,” Zeller responded.

“Hell, I’d rather go out with cake and punch than by disappearing, only to be seen again via some cheesy TattleCrime article. ‘The Cannibal Who Had His Murder Husband for Dinner’ – Christ, how much longer will we have to hear about _that_?” Jimmy asked.

Part 2: Several Years Later

Sometime, if you have the opportunity to visit Central or South America, you might come across a pair of men. They’ll be holding hands at the opera, or taking care of a toddler named Abigail with red hair and freckles whom they will tell you with pride is the spitting image of their daughter, Hannah. On occasion, at least twice a year, and _always_ at Christmas, you can find them vacationing in Cuba instead of their Argentinian estate. When in Cuba, the younger of the two men will rarely be seen without a cigar in his mouth, while the older will regard him with a sidelong glance, a smile appearing on his face when he sees the younger man inhale deeply.

During most of the year when the men are in Argentina, the younger man can often be seen outdoors, repairing motors while surrounded by a dozen dogs. After they had put down roots, he learned how to pilot a small aircraft large enough for him and his husband, their dogs, and occasionally, their daughter, her husband, and their granddaughter. The older man walks to the market each day to procure fresh produce. He never buys meat from the local vendors, insisting that he employs ethical butchers.

~~~~~~

Dr. Richard Fell and Mr. Jacob Davis lived a long life together. The couple often hosted lavish dinner parties to the delight of the Puerto Madero’s socialites and fine arts patrons. These same guests always raved about Dr. Fell’s delectable variety of meats and hors d'oeuvres. While not being much for parties himself, Jacob always enjoyed when Roman and Hannah played the harpsichord or piano during these fetes. A few years after settling into their home, Jacob would delight in holding his granddaughter, swaying with her to the music. When little Abigail grew old enough to walk, Jacob would laugh watching her chase one of his many dogs amongst the throngs of well-fed guests as Roman played on.


End file.
